The explanation went down better than expected. Hilda told her mother most of what she knew, centred around her encounter with Aevana, the Ulfhednar, and their beliefs about the magic feather. The details of her own transformation, however, she kept to herself. With the feather safely hidden under her pillow, Hilda turned her attention to her homework.
Over the following week, however, she found herself struggling to concentrate more than usual. Despite her best efforts, she often found herself zoning out. She supposed it was her nature as an adventurer. Why learn about geography with slides and textbooks when she could be out there in the wilderness, exploring it directly?
The temptation to slip out with her feather was tantalizing, but deep down, she knew it was impossible to outrun her problems forever. If there was one thing she'd learned since moving to Trolberg, it was that sometimes, magical solutions to mundane issues only made things worse. So, as boring as it was, she did her best to soldier on.
The days ticked by, and the urge to use the feather grew stronger and stronger, picking at the back of her mind. Whenever she found herself shuffling in her seat, she took the simpler tasks to her room and bathed herself in the feather's soft light; the gentle pulsing of its aura helping to erase her pent-up stresses.
When Saturday rolled around, she could wait no longer. Waking up bright and early, she hurriedly threw on her regular combo of red sweater, grey skirt, and black leggings. Then, feather in hand, she grabbed a light breakfast before saying goodbye to Johanna and Twig.
Maybe I should try something ground-based next week? she pondered, skipping down the stairs. That way, Twig can come with me.
As she retraced her steps, her thoughts turned to where she could hide her clothes. If she left them out in the open, there was a chance they could get blown away, or worse, stolen. Then again, nowhere in the wilderness was completely secure, so it was more about minimizing the risks. One thing was for certain, she wasn't going to repeat last week's mistakes.
In no time at all, she reached the spot where she'd met Aevana the previous week. Well, here I am, she thought. Guess I should get started.
Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out the feather and did...
Nothing. She just stood there, hands by her side.
Did I just hear rustling in the bushes? Maybe I should check around one more time. She glanced around for a moment before shaking her head. No, this is silly. No one else is here, so what am I waiting for?
That question lingered in her mind. What was she waiting for? She knew how the feather worked, for the most part. Was the magic replenished properly? For all she knew, the feather's recharge time could be anything from a few hours to a few days, if it would work again at all. Its glow didn't seem diminished, at least. All she had to do was—
"Ah," Hilda said out loud. Now that she thought about it, the reason for her hesitation was obvious. The last time she'd transformed, it was on impulse, partly to prove Aevana's assertion wrong.
But the Ulfhednar girl wasn't wrong. She couldn't transform with clothes on, or at least, not if she wanted them wearable when she returned to human form. There was no getting around it. She knew she was alone, but it did little to diminish the butterflies in her stomach.
Like most children, Hilda had been hardwired to never show her body in public, save for select situations like changing rooms. It would be far too embarrassing. Logically, she knew it shouldn't matter. She wasn't exactly streaking through the city streets, quite the opposite. She was as far from people as anyone would care to be! Besides Alfur and Tontu, who else could possibly follow her all the way out here?
So, here she was, stuck in a mental stalemate. Her heart cried out to explore her new magic, but her head still insisted she'd be stripping in public. If she were to transform again, something had to give.
Clenching her fist tightly around the feather, Hilda let out a long, frustrated sigh. The things I do for an adventure...
Removing her beret, she pinched the neck of her sweater, pulling it off in one motion. Even in a t-shirt, the cool, mountain breeze made her bare arms prickle with goose bumps. There was no going back now. Closing her eyes, she removed each article of clothing, one by one, and dropped them into a small pile at her feet.
The deed was done. She was now standing in the woods completely nude. Several seconds passed before she dared open her eyes again, and when she did...
Nothing happened. Nobody came jumping out of the underbrush to steal her clothes, or laugh at her, or—well, anything. Beyond the rustle of leaves in the wind, and the occasional chirp of birdsongs, life continued, indifferent to her presence.
"Huh," Hilda said, shivering a little. "I guess this isn't so bad?" Feather still in hand, she carefully folded up her clothes, stacking them into a single pile before hiding them in the bush next to her.
With that sorted, she once more closed her eyes, reaching out her mind to connect with the feather's power. The magic's glow washed over her body, and in a flash, she was a phoenix again. Magical feathers clung to her with a gentle embrace, reviving a strong sense of familiarity that she'd almost forgotten. Ironically, despite the intense heat of phoenix fire, taking this form felt as comfortable as putting on an old sweater.
As she flexed her wings, Hilda's thoughts returned to Aevana, and how she refused to call herself human. Now that she'd gotten a glimpse of the Ulfhednar's experience with magic, she supposed it wasn't hard to see her perspective. Even if she were anatomically human, to become a creature of the wild—of her own accord, no less—gave her a perspective on life that no regular human could comprehend.
She had granted Hilda the perfect opportunity to fill the gaps of human ignorance, and she had just the species in mind to start with: the woffs. No other species, save maybe for the trolls themselves, were as iconic to the Trolberg wilderness as the woffs. But first, she would have to find them.
Taking flight, Hilda flapped her wings in broad strokes until she broke free of the forest canopy. From there, she let the thermals carry her weight, occasionally flapping to maintain her course. If there was one fact about woff behaviour that was known to humans, it was their peculiar avoidance of large bodies of water. No matter how many times she visited the fjords, woffs were nowhere to be seen.
She instead headed deeper into the mountains, towards the troll caverns where she'd ridden the even more elusive white woff. As luck would have it, she didn't have long to wait for a flock to arrive. Based on the direction of their flight path, she spotted a rocky outcrop a short ahead, and quietly fluttered down behind it. The last thing she wanted was to disturb them, so rather than race after them immediately, she would let them come to her.
To her surprise, they did just that. As a human, woffs would give her a wide berth, dashing away at the first hint of human interference. But, as a phoenix, they didn't seem to be bothered. Coming in from the east, the large flock made a sharp left turn, heading straight towards her without hesitation.
Oh my gosh! Hilda thought, flapping her wings in excitement. This is amazing! It's like they don't even notice me. I wonder, is there a connection between different magical creatures in an ecosystem?
The flock flew at a leisurely pace, flying almost parallel to the mountain slope not two feet above. So close were they to Hilda, she could almost reach out and touch them – though she resisted the temptation. Though she was insulated well enough, she had yet to learn of any method of controlling her magical fire. One wrong move and the whole area could be set ablaze!
So, she instead bided her time, waiting for the last woff to pass before following on a short distance behind. Better to be safe than sorry, she thought, chuckling internally. I'm starting to sound like Mum already.
The woff flock twisted their way through the ascending valleys, flying into territory rarely visited by humans. But Hilda wasn't worried about getting lost. With her photographic memory, she captured any little details she could use as a landmark, ordering the mental pictures in time to an old folk song she knew.
After half an hour of flying, the woffs made an unexpected manoeuvre. Entering a wide valley, they made a sharp turn to the right, straight towards a sheer cliff face.
Hilda flared her wings, kicking out her talons to bring herself to a sudden halt. The woffs, however, didn't slow at all. In fact, they picked up the pace, charging ahead at full speed. Hilda braced herself. What were these woffs thinking? Was this the start of some grand acrobatic manouver? Would they pull up at the last second? Or would they collide straight into the cliff face, as if to break through?
Her last assumption proved to be right, but only partially so. The woffs did fly on, but instead of colliding with the rock wall, they went straight through it instead, as if it were not even there. Curious, Hilda cautiously approached the area, flying above them to better observe how the woffs reacted. Perhaps, she wondered, they had a yet unknown magical ability that allowed them to teleport?
It was only when she viewed the cliff face from a steeper angle that the trick was revealed. It wasn't the woffs that were using magic, it was the mountain. When the light hit the cliff face just right, Hilda could see what looked like solid rock was actually a translucent screen.
This, however, raised more questions than answers. This area was baron, yes, but surely some brave mountaineers had traversed its slopes on their journey to the peaks. Hilda was far from the first adventurer in history, so it stood to reason that, at some point, some other curious soul would have stumbled on the magical facade. And what of the barrier itself? Where did it come from? Were the Ulfhednar involved in its creation?
Well, there's only one way to find out, she thought, letting out an excited squawk. Pushing herself into a shallow dive, she raced after the woffs, expecting to fly straight through the barrier as they had done – and at first, that's exactly what happened. The false wall led to a narrow tunnel, lit up by a thick series of blue, glowing mushrooms that lined the ceiling. Yet as Hilda flew further in, things started to change. Her vision blurred, and she found herself involuntarily rocking from side to side.
She tried to refocus and steady herself, but each time, she overcorrected, making herself even dizzier. Before she knew it, she was tumbling end over end, the cavern's luminous colours running together into a single, blue-stained streak. Already she felt her limbs stiffening, as if being squeezed by a giant, invisible hand.
With blood rushing to her head, the forces on her body finally took their toll, and she blacked out.
Hilda awoke sometime later. Her eyes tentatively stuttered open, and she raised her hand to shield them against the intense sunlight. The more awareness she regained, the more she remembered. She had gone from flying through the woff's tunnel, to lying flat on her back against the cold, bare rock.
Ugh, how long was I out for? Her head was throbbing, and her arm muscles ached, to say nothing of her uncomfortable bed of stone. She gave her body a quick pat down, checking for any cuts or bruises. She found none, though her skin did feel strangely bare beneath her fingers.
Wait, a minute, fingers?! Hilda sat bolt upright. Her transformation had reverted! Oh, no, no, no, this can't be happening!
Rolling onto her knees, the hard roughness of the rocks dug into her bare skin as she furiously patted the ground around her. The feather had to be around her somewhere. She couldn't have lost it. It was impossible. She had to feel its warmth again, or feel its quills between her fingers. Something, anything to tell her that her magic wasn't spent.
Where's the feather? Where is it, where is it?
Then, as quickly as her panic arrived, it vanished. As if the universe heard her thoughts, a gentle breeze brushed against her bare skin, delivering the feather into her lap.
Oh, thank goodness, she breathed a sigh of relief. There's no way I could climb all the way down without... well, anything.
As her headache cleared, so did her mind, giving her room to think about what she'd just gone through. The portal let the woffs through, but for whatever reason, its magic had rejected her.
Perhaps I was in the wrong shape? She wondered. It would make sense. Whether naturally occurring or designed, the portal was obviously there to protect the woffs. Why else would it reject her? If it let any creature just waltz on through, much less a potential predator, its mountainside facade was as good as useless.
Based on this reasoning, the solution seemed obvious. I hope the feather has enough magic left. As if hearing her thoughts, the feather flickered to life, bathing her in its soft orange glow.
"You really are something, huh?" Picking up the feather, Hilda held it close to her chest, warming herself against the mountain chill. It pulsed softly in time with her heartbeat, like it had become part of her own body. It was truly a wonder of the Ulfendhar race, begging her to learn more.
For now, though, she decided it was enough to explore one secret at a time. She had come too far to give up now! As the flames of her curiosity burned brighter, so too did the feather's magic intensify, shifting her into the simpler but no less elegant form of a woff.
It happened so quickly, Hilda at first wondered if it had done anything at all - only for her doubts to be erased when she tried to flap her now non-existent wings. If the sensation of becoming a phoenix was strange, then that of becoming a woff was stranger still.
While the phoenix's outer flames warmed away the cold, the woffs compensated with extra-thick layers of insulating fur. Only the face remained bare, which she reasoned was for sensory purposes. Despite wearing such a heavy and compact coat, to her surprise, the woff's body was exceptionally light.
She felt her stomach rumble, but it wasn't a growl of hunger. No, this was more of a gassy sensation, the kind she would get from eating one too many packets of Jorts. She supposed it was the woff's way of keeping afloat, like how a dirigible flew.
The strangest sensation of all, however, was the static tingling around where her limbs had been. She recalled writing an essay on phantom limbs for an essay at school, though she never imagined experiencing it for herself. Her brain knew limbs were supposed to be there, and couldn't comprehend that they weren't.
It took a moment for Hilda to get her balance. Without wings to move her, she was entirely reliant on shifting gasses within her to avoid floating away. Once she achieved lateral stability, she caught on to yet another twist; as the wind brushed against her fur, she felt the familiar magical glow inside of her, just as the feather did for her human form.
Like her natural gas, this, too, could be shifted around her spherical body. Together, the two forces created a cushion of air, propelling herself forward. Through this knowledge, Hilda learned to coordinate the two forces, applying the same principles of differential pressure as she would with a pair of wings.
Wow, I'm getting good at this! Hilda giggled internally as she twisted and turned about the place. Alright, woffs. Let's see if your magic accepts me this time!
Launching herself off the edge of the cliff, she pushed herself forward, gathering speed with each pulse of magic. Shifting her weight, she leaned into a right-hand barrel roll and reversed her direction, losing no momentum as she charged straight through the barrier.
This time, the tunnel's magic had the opposite effect, sharpening the senses that once were dulled. Every detail of the narrow passage revealed itself to her, from the smallest speck of mushroom mould to the dazzling crystal stalactites that hummed as she raced past.
All this, she processed in fractions of a second. Her attention was fixated the way ahead, and she subtly flicked herself this way and that to match the contours of the tunnel with pinpoint precision. The feeling it granted was akin to a roller coaster, with all her day-to-day worries left to vanish in her dusty wake.
Now that her blood was well and truly pumping, she shot out the other side. Greeting her was a huge, circular meadow, hidden between two of the country's tallest peaks. Hilda couldn't believe her eyes. This place was a woff paradise! She had never seen so many gathered in one place before.
The flat meadow floor sat some one-hundred metres down, sporting a small array of alpine plants, where woffs grazed at their leisure. Some of the luminous mushrooms grew out from the tunnel to line its entrance, but no further, instead giving way to long patches of damp moss.
What interested Hilda most, however, were the little woffs. Those that flew over Trolberg were of limited variations, as far as size went, lacking features that would define them as distinctly immature.Here, however, litters of little woffs scampered about, all of which were a fraction of the adult's size. Like most mammal babies, they were already fully covered by their fur, with the smallest amongst them having a soft, wrinkly texture to their skin, akin to new-born puppy dogs.
None of the woff pups had trouble staying aloft, though the youngest did lack the coordination of their elders, frequently bumping into each other as they twisted around in mid-air. Any pup that wasn't busy suckling was highly active, constantly bobbing about the meadow without a care in the world.
While the odd pup did attempt level flight, most seemed to enjoy their wild instability, bumping off one other. I swear, small children are all the same, Hilda chuckled internally. It's like they're playing dodgems at the funfair!
When Hilda returned her attention to the suckling pups, she noticed a surprising detail about the mothers. They all had white fur! Then the gears started turning in her head. If all the female woffs are white, then that means...
Hilda rushed to the small pond below her. Her reflection confirmed her suspicions; she did indeed have a full coat of pure, snow-white fur. All these years, the white woffs were thought to be albinos – an elusive enigma of legend, one of a kind amongst its kin. Yet for all their rarity, there existed a healthy population of woffs of both colours, hidden amongst the alpine tundra.
It didn't take long for the implications to set in. The number of pups being nursed, the mixture of sexes, it all pointed toward the meadow's one primary purpose: it was a woff breeding ground! As fascinating as woffs were, the act of procreation was not something she wanted to see. Her cheeks were already flushing hot from the concept alone.
Maybe it's time to leave them to it...
Slowly, Hilda turned around and floated back toward the tunnel, keeping a close eye on the woff's body language. She had to appear relaxed, avoiding any sudden movements that would mark her as an outsider. The last thing she wanted was to provoke unwanted attention.
Unfortunately, one woff had other ideas. Floating directly above her, a large female blocked her path, and it was looking directly at her. Its face in a deep scowl, it bared its fangs and let out a series of high-pitched, raspy barks.
Halting her ascent, Hilda slowly started backing away, her head dipped. This, she hoped, would be a sign of submission, negating whatever threat the elder female perceived.
Her assumption was wrong. Far from pacifying the matriarch, it only seemed to anger it further. The white woff bellowed a long howl that echoed throughout the sanctuary. To the other woffs, the message was loud and clear: get out of the way. Now. With haste, they retreated to the meadow floor, dragging their oblivious pups along with them.
Then, with its face flushing bright red, the white matriarch charged. Quickly, Hilda pushed her weight to one side, tumbling away just in time to avoid a head on collision. But it was undeterred. Before Hilda could fully right herself, it spun around, looping over for the next attack.
Turning her back on the matriarch, Hilda made a break for the tunnel. If she could just escape the meadow, she could become a phoenix again and leave the volatile nest of woffs behind. She didn't even make half that distance. The matriarch slammed into her back, hard. Though her thick fur softened the blow, the impact still sent her spinning.
She was getting dizzy now. The more she spun, the harder it became to find which way was up. She had to regain control. So, she closed her eyes, took in a deep breath, and held it. If she could at least stop spinning, her balance would settle.
It was just the trick she needed, skidding her to an abrupt, mid-air halt, a meter shy of crashing into the cliff face. She felt her heart thump heavy in her chest, but this was not the pleasant thrill she'd experienced earlier. No, her breathing fast and shallow, and her eyes darted about the place, desperately searching for an escape. She held her ears flat against her head, and tucked her tail beneath her body.
What have I done? She thought. This wasn't supposed to happen, I haven't done anything wrong! I don't want to hurt the matriarch, but...
But she had to.
As nasty as the concept was, she was backed into a corner. Whether for dominance or for some other reason, the matriarch was out for blood. What other option was there? She'd never transformed in mid-air before. Did the feather have enough magic for such a stunt? What could she become that would give her an edge?
No, there was only one option. She had to fight for her life. Gritting her teeth, Hilda steadied herself, took one more deep breath and screamed.
It was more like a shriek – a high-pitched wail that made every other woff around her cringe in fear. All except the matriarch, or so it seemed, at first. Despite its intense, unbreaking stare, Hilda could still see how its tail was wagging faster. It was hesitating. This was it, the perfect time to act.
With all the animalistic fury she could muster, Hilda launched herself into a counter-charge, her vision tunnelled around the matriarch.
It made no move to evade. There was nowhere for it to go. Even amongst woffs, it seemed, respect had to be earned. So, the matriarch did the only thing it could do. It leaned forward, lowering its forehead just in time for Hilda to slam into it with a mighty thud.
The impact was hard. They bounced off each other, spinning away in opposite directions.
Hilda righted herself first. The matriarch was defeated. She could see the shame in its eyes, averting its gaze as it slinked away. Her boldness had paid off. She was the victor. A long silence followed in her wake. The woffs were looking at each other.
All this time, Hilda had guessed their mood by way of familiar body language. But this time, something was different. She couldn't pinpoint how, but somehow she knew the woffs were in shock. It had to be an incredible rarity for an outsider to randomly show up, only to then best one of the flock's most senior females.
So, they howled.
It was a long, low-pitched howl, feeling almost sombre, in a way. It was both a sign of respect and the mourning of their dethroned leader. Hilda tried to spot where the old matriarch had gone, but it was nowhere to be seen.
I haven't killed it, have I? The thought came down on her like a ton of bricks. Surely she couldn't have taken its life that easily, could she? She'd hit it hard, yes, but there had been no blood, from what she could see. If anything, she'd come out of it worse, feeling an intense soreness where she'd headbutted the other woff.
Perhaps, she considered, that was a question best left unanswered. She'd interfered enough already. Bowing as gracefully as she could, Hilda made a swift exit. This time, there were no interruptions. She left the woffs to sort things out amongst themselves, compartmentalizing the implications thereof as she glided back through the mushroom-lit tunnel.
Just one full-length adventure and she was already impacting the world around her. What would Aevana make of it? She shuddered at the thought. Then again, she had been minding her own business. She didn't ask for the woff matriarch to challenge her. Heck, she had deliberately avoided direct contact as much as possible! She could hardly be blamed for finding herself in a sticky situation. As she passed through the magical barrier one final time, she turned her focus to the journey home.
With the day Hilda had had, finding her clothes exactly where she left them came as a huge relief. This time, she had greater control over her magic, allowing her to transform back into a human without the need for a panicked rush. Now that she had hands again, she found the feather resting in her right palm, having lost little of its brightness.
"This thing is absolutely incredible," she said to herself, holding it against her chest again. "I seriously need to catch up with Aevana and ask her more about it."
Rummaging through the bush, she picked up her sweater and unfolded it. Yet as she felt the soft, yet rough texture of its sleeves in her hands, she hesitated. Technically, she had been naked for most of the day, but she had also been bundled up in the thick fur of a woff. Now, the sensation of air on her bare skin felt closer to opening her bedroom window on a stuffy night, providing a mild relief from the summer sunshine.
Dropping her sweater, she shaded her eyes with her palm and looked for the sun's position in the sky. Despite all that she'd done today, it was still early afternoon, three o'clock at the latest. So, she reasoned, what's the rush? She'd be home well before Johanna would start to worry.
The more she thought about it, the easier the decision was to make. She would take a page out of Aevana's book and remain naked for a little while longer. As such, she had the perfect spot in mind for a little rest and relaxation. Folding her clothes, she stacked them into a neat little pile and took them under her arm.
It didn't take long to reach her destination. At this time of year, the Trolberg meadows bloomed with the most beautiful flowers, and today was no exception. This one stretch of hillside alone was awash in a sea of blues, yellows and reds, all overlooking the magnificent greyish-blue waters of the fjord.
Dropping her stacked clothing beside her, Hilda gently sat herself down and laid her back, resting her hands behind her head. She took in a long, slow breath, letting the tension in her muscles drain away. The grass today was soft, but dry, cushioning her bare backside in a way she found oddly comfortable. Turning her gaze up to the lightly-clouded summer sky, a blissful smile grew across her face.
I think I get it, now, she thought. Aevana was right. What's so bad about being naked? This feels nice.
Now that she relaxed, she could finally let her imagination run wild, dreaming up a plethora of new, fantastical creatures and potential adventures from each passing cloud. For the first time in her life, Hilda felt she'd achieved a balance. Some days, she was an avid Sparrow Scout, helping both humans, animals, and magical beings in their day to day lives. But on weekends like this, she could just wander into nature, shed her clothes, and live as wild as she dared.
That sounds like a good life to me.